


Number Nineteen, Waterfall Lane

by Asami_T



Series: Asami's One-Shots [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21622801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asami_T/pseuds/Asami_T
Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number Nineteen Waterfall Lane thought their lives were simple and methodical. Sometimes, life doesn't pan out that way.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood/Ron Weasley
Series: Asami's One-Shots [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/933525
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103





	Number Nineteen, Waterfall Lane

Dudley and Clara Dursley, of number nineteen, Waterfall Lane, were proud to say that they weren’t perfect, but were a happy sort of family, thank you very much. They had their odd behaviours and things, but everyone liked the curiously social family.

Dudley was a heavy-set man who surprised his neighbours by being a social worker of all things, spending his days helping children escaping bad homes and finding new, happier ones. When asked what made him choose such a particular type of work, Dudley always seemed to grow distant, murmuring about repaying a debt that could not be repaid. His hair was short, and he was always clean-shaven– he didn’t hold to growing a mustache, saying it made him look quite ugly. People often thought there was a deeper story to that, given the terrible sneer that crossed his face when he thought about it.

His lovely wife Clara was a firecracker of a woman, and had the pleasure of being the local Member of Parliament. Quite a young MP to boot, she was a Labour backbencher who had won over the working class neighbourhood with promises of putting the grindstone to the Tory government, and doing what was best for the people in their constituency.

Grandmother Dursley lived with them as well. She was a boney old wispy woman, who spent most of her day watching the telly, or tending to the small garden in the backyard. It was a simple life for a woman in her twilight years, but a life she had come to enjoy as much as was possible.

Clara and Dudley also had two brilliant young daughters. Abigail, and Eleanor. In the opinion of the mother and father, they had the finest girls in all of Britain, and they wouldn’t trade them for the world.

It was a particularly good morning, the morning of April 2, and the two young girls were celebrating their eleventh birthday. At the very end of Waterfall Lane, to nobody’s notice, a medium height man wearing a coat, shirt, jeans and heeled boots appeared at the corner. He had messy black hair, green eyes, and a faded lightning bolt scar running from his hairline to just above his eyebrow. Tucking a stick of wood into a leather holster attached to his forearm, he adjusted his glasses before walking towards Number 19.

…

Harry held his breath as he approached the front porch of Number 19. He hadn’t anticipated reaching out to Dudley in this way. Dudley and him had been ‘Christmas-card’ relatives since their family had moved out of Number 4 Privet Drive, but… this was different.

Knocking on the front door, he waited patiently before the mousy-haired visage of his cousin’s wife appeared in the doorway. He’d met her only briefly when he’d attended their wedding, but he had seen very little of Mrs. Clara Dursley since then.

“Hello,” Harry said with a wry smile. “May I speak to Dudley, please?”

“Sure thing,” She said. “Dudley! Your cousin’s at the door!”

“What?” came Dudley’s voice from inside the house, before he appeared in the doorway suddenly. “Harry! What… what are you doing here?”

Harry sagged some. “It’s… complicated, Big D. Mind if I come in?”

“Yeah, sure, cous,” Dudley said, stepping aside and allowing his cousin to step into the foyer of the house. Harry folded his hands in front of him and followed Dudley into the sitting room. Aunt Petunia was seated on one of the couches, looking pensively at the television set. She blinked in surprise as Harry entered the room.

“Harry? Is that you?” She said. “Haven’t seen you in years. How’re you doing with your sort?” She asked, looking at him carefully.

“I’m doing alright, Aunt Petunia. I’m a teacher these days, erm, how are you doing?” Harry said quietly, and the old woman shrugged.

“I suppose I’m getting by,” Petunia said. “Not much to do these days but garden and watch my stories, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Harry said quietly.

“What, uh, what brings you here, Harry?” Dudley said, sitting down across from his cousin. Harry sighed and reached into his coat and drew out two letters, handing them over to Dudley.

_Ms. Abigail Dursley_

_First bedroom on the left_

_19 Waterfall Lane_

_Terrace Lake, Southampton_

and

_Ms. Eleanor Dursley_

_Second bedroom on the left_

_19 Waterfall Lane_

_Terrace Lake, Southampton_

Dudley looked like a deer in headlights. Aunt Petunia had caught sight of the letters and her eyes were wide as dinner plates. The only person who was confused was Clara, who was looking between the three confused.

“What’s this, darling?” Clara asked, leaning into her husband.

“Right, erm, dearest,” Dudley said. “It’s sort of a long story.”

“I’m a wizard,” Harry said, leaning back. “My mother was what we call a ‘first-generation wix’, or a wix who was born to Muggles.”

“A wizard?” Clara asked, furrowing her brow. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Not at all,” Harry said, pulling his holly and phoenix wand out of its holster and showing it to his de-facto sister-in-law. He then waved the wand in the right movements.

“Expecto patronum,” He said quietly.

The familiar silver stag that had accompanied him for so many years poured out of the end, looking at Harry intently. Dudley had gone deathly pale, rehashing memories he had long since put in the back of his mind. He had nearly died all those years ago, and it hadn’t left him, and had been a major part of his decision to pursue a career in helping children in need.

“What does this mean?” Dudley whispered.

“It means they have the chance to learn to control their powers,” Harry said. “As Deputy Headmaster, it’s my job to escort them to Diagon Alley and help them get comfortable with the wixen world.”

He turned to Clara. “My cousin and aunt know this, but for your benefit I will go through it. Hogwarts is a seven year boarding school where students learn the fundamentals of magic and Muggle education. It’s been some effort to get a well-rounded academic itinerary set up, but we’ve been quite happy with the results. They’ll learn a whole assortment of things both magical and non-magical. The school year runs from September to June, with holidays for Christmas and Easter.” He said. “The letters explain a bit more.”

…

Abigail and Eleanor Dursley gave Harry whiplash because they _reminded him of Fred and George Weasley_. Two red-haired twins that shared daring looks, mischevious grins, and seemed inseparable. His heart ached a bit as he straightened up as they entered the room.

“Girls, this is your Uncle Harry,” Dudley said. “Harry,”

He gestured to the first girl, who was wearing a pair of denim overalls. “This is Abby,”

His hand went to the shoulder of the other girl who was wearing a black pullover. “This is Eleanor.”

Harry smiled and bowed his head. “It’s nice to meet you, girls. Come, sit, sit,” He gestured. They took seats across from him and he leaned in. “Girls, I have a question for you. Have you ever made something happen, that you couldn’t quite explain?”

Both girls blinked. Eleanor was the first to speak.

“One time when Eliza Forrester was making fun of me, I made her stop speaking for a week,” Eleanor said quietly.

“There was the time Auntie Marge’s dog was chasing me and I ended up in a tree,” Abby said quietly.

“Marge still breeds dogs?” Harry said, glancing at Dudley who had a dark look on his face.

“Yeah, old bint doesn’t discipline her animals well at all. That was the last time I visited her, it was just before Dad died,” Dudley said, folding his arms.

Harry nodded, before turning his attention back to the girls. “Well, that settles it then. You’re witches, my dears.”

“We’re _what_ ” Eleanor wheezed, while Abby’s eyes lit up like stars.

“And I’d wager you’ll be proper good ones, once you train up a bit,” Harry said, smiling ear to ear. Dudley blinked and laughed.

“You’re quoting that tall bloke that picked you up on your birthday, aren’t you? What, Potter, going to give me a pig tail again?” Dudley said, grinning.

“I never did apologize for that, did I? Hagrid shouldn’t have done that,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Using magic on a _child_ like that… inexcusable, even if you were a git.”

He looked at Clara and the girls. “I never got along with Dudley or his parents when I was a kid. When I turned eleven and got _my_ Hogwarts letter, our Care of Magical Creatures professor came to introduce me to the magical world. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia tried to keep me on this little cramped shack on the coast of Anglesey, and Hagrid ended up causing my cousin to sprout a pig tail on his… yeah,”

“Is that what that scar is, darling?” Clara asked, eyebrows raised.

Harry looked at Dudley. “If you’d like, mate, I can set you up with an appointment with St. Mungo’s, have them take a look at that– I don’t know what sort of latent effects that’s had on you over the years.”

Dudley rubbed his chin. “Maybe, but we’ll talk about it later.”

Harry nodded, before sitting back in his chair. “You’ve been accepted to Hogwarts School of Wixcraft, the largest and, honestly, only magical institution in Great Britain. You were accepted under the Lily Evans-Potter Scholarship, which is granted to all ‘first-gen wix’.”

“Lily Evans-Potter?” Eleanor asked.

“That would be my mum,” Harry said with a grin. “We do our best to help the families of first-gen wix acclimate to their new environs. There’s also the Petunia Dursley Fund for that as well.”

“The _what_?” Aunt Petunia said, craning her head.

“Minerva and I realized that breaking up families because one child might be wixen and the other not could cause problems in the future for some,” Harry said quietly. “So when we established the Lily Scholarship, we also agreed to provide a fund to allow for their Muggle relatives to visit them frequently enough as to not cause them academic problems. It seemed only fitting we named it after you, Aunt Petunia.”

Silence had lingered for a moment before Eleanor and Abby began to explode with questions about Hogwarts.

“The Headmistress is Minerva McGonagall,” Harry explained. “I’m Deputy Headmaster, and I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts across all seven years. There’s Professor Longbottom, he teaches Herbology; Professor Flitwick, he teaches Charms; Professor Parkinson, she teaches Potions; Then there’s Professor Weasley, he teaches Transfiguration– another Professor Weasley, she teaches Divination… the list goes on, really.”

He took a deep breath. “This is, of course, assuming you agree to attend Hogwarts,”

Dudley’s eyes flickered to his daughters and then back to Harry. “Will they be safe, Harry?”

“The war’s been over for fifteen years, Big D,” Harry said quietly. “I made sure of that, and I made sure Hogwarts is safer than ever.”

Dudley nodded. “Alright, it would be unfair to keep them from it because I don’t quite understand it.”

“With time, Dudley, you will,” Harry said, before glancing down at his watch. “I’ve actually got to get back to Hogwarts soon, classes start at nine. Look, tell you what– I’ll pick you lot up on Saturday for a trip to Diagon Alley. Then perhaps on Sunday, you can come over for dinner with the family? Introduce the girls to their cousins, maybe they’ll buddy up at Hogwarts and keep an eye on each other.”

Dudley and Clara, a little gobsmacked, nodded. They could use a few days to get used to things.

…

Time flew by and Dudley was interrupted from his ruminating over files on Saturday morning. Bustling his way to the door from his office, he opened it to see Harry standing in the doorway, this time dressed far more formally. He was wearing a stylish Muggle suit, with a small lapel pin that had a quad-colour crest on it.

“Hello,” Harry said with a smile. “Come to pick you lot up for a trip to Diagon Alley.”

“Right, sorry, erm, give me a minute, would you? Just got to finish up this paperwork,” Dudley said. “Come in, come in,”

Harry entered the foyer again and watched his cousin bustle back to his study and start jotting on his files.

“I never asked, Big D, what is it you and your wife do?” Harry asked, curiously. Dudley flushed a bit.

“I’m a social worker, actually,” Dudley said. “I help displaced and abused youth get away from bad families and find homes with good ones. The wife's a member of parliament.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“What Mum and Dad did to you– and… all the things I did to people when I was a kid, it’s… stuck with me a bit,” Dudley said. “So I refused an offer from Dad to work for Grunnings and instead became a social worker. It’s a great job, I love what I do.”

“I’m proud of you, Big D,” Harry said with a smile.

After Dudley had finished writing up his paperwork, he called his family together, and before long they were set off for London in a luxurious towncar.

“I didn’t expect you lot would drive _towncars_ ,” Dudley admitted as Harry began to travel towards the section of London that contained Charing Cross Road, and the Leaky Cauldron.

“I’ve tried to keep some illusion of what your lot see as normal. Sometimes it’s not economical, like if I have to deal with first-gens from the North and the like, but since you’re not that far from London, things are easier like this. The wifey was alright with me taking the car out for a few hours anyway.” Harry said.

Before long, the assembled family stood around the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

“Where is this place you’re talking about, Harry?” Clara asked. “I don’t see any Leaky Cauldron.”

“Dear, it’s right in front of us,” Dudley said, earning looks from Harry.

Once inside, Harry grimaced at the attentions he got, and sighed. “Come on, you lot,”

He nodded to the woman behind the bar. “Mornin’, Hannah.”

“Harry, why is everyone staring at us?” Dudley whispered.

“Not staring at you, Dud– staring at me. It’s sort of a long story, I get tired of telling it after a minute.”

Dudley and his wife found themselves in a whirlwind of _wixen_ culture. First, they’d visited the bank called Gringotts, where they had been shocked to see _real goblins_ as bankers. Harry had explained that they mostly took care of the wixen world’s finances, and that he and the Goblins had… a complicated relationship in the years since the war, mostly because of some daring thing he’d done then.

After receiving the scholarship stipend for school expenses in the strange coins called galleons, sickles and knuts, they stepped into Diagon Alley to begin the process of purchasing their supplies. Cauldrons, gloves, books, all sorts of strange things, before Harry took a deep breath.

“Wands,” Harry said with a nod. “It’s time for the girls to get their wands.”

Ollivander’s was perhaps the strangest place he’d ever been in his life. The air was so still, but positively charged with magic to the point where Dudley could _taste it._

“Ah, Mister Potter, how good to see you again,” Ollivander’s voice was dry and wizened. The man slid into view, eyeballing Dudley’s cousin intensely.

“Wotcher, Ollivander.”

“Two first-years? Twins, are they? _Fascinating,_ ” Ollivander said, grinning. “Well, who shall be first?”

Eleanor stepped up first. Her dominant arm was measured, and Ollivander looked thoughtful before dashing into the back and rummaging around in his boxes. He returned with a large number of wands, with Eleanor trying each one and each one somehow not being ‘compatible’ with her. After about twenty minutes of waiting, Ollivander handed her one that glowed very brightly.

“Ah, we have a match. Ten and one-third inches, dogwood, with a dragon heartstring core. An excellent choice, excellent choice indeed.”

Abby was next, and she went through much the same process of cycling back and forth with little luck, until she finally struck gold. The old man Ollivander nodded as if the wand that she ended up with made sense.

“An excellent choice as well– eleven and three-eighths inches, poplar, with a phoenix feather core.”

Harry must have noticed the questioning look on his face, because he spoke up.

“The wand chooses the wix, Dudley. Each wand… sort of has its own personality, and so the wand wood and core can really be dependent on how well it synchronizes with the person who casts spells with it.”

“Mister Potter is right, for instance, his holly and phoenix wand did him a great justice during the war– in fact, the phoenix who provided the feather for his wand gave another, which is most unusual.”

Harry looked uncomfortable, quickly paid for the wands, and ushered the Dursleys out onto the street.

“Can’t go into any bloody place without everyone making a scene about the war,” Harry said, gruffly. “Would you lot care for some ice cream? We’ve pretty much got everything we need.”

…

Dudley oggled a bit at the sight in front of him. Harry had given him directions to his home that was just outside London as well. His cousin lived in a beautiful two-story home that looked like it cost far too many pounds to be reasonable. He and his family unloaded from their car and walked the distance to the front-door, Dudley feeling nervous all the while.

Knocking on the door, he waited patiently before the door opened and he came face to face with a boy who looked around 16. He had dark azure hair and red eyes. It unnerved Dudley slightly, but he knew he really had nothing to fear.

“They’re here!” He shouted into the house, and it was followed by the sound of thumping.

Harry descended the staircase first, followed behind by his wife.

“Dudley, so glad you could make it,” Harry said. “Come in then, you pillock.”

Dudley and his family entered the foyer and looked around. It was… _rather normal_. He’d always expected Harry’s sort to live in strange hovels that boggled the imagination.

“Dudley,” Harry said. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife. Dudley, this is Hermione. Hermione, my cousin Dudley.”

Dudley blinked and gently shook the hand of Harry’s wife.

“Harry’s told me all about you,” Hermione said with a small smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you and your wife.”

They’d gone to the sitting room off to the side of the foyer, where Harry introduced him to the young man who had opened the door.

“Dudley, Clara, girls– this is my godson, Teddy Lupin. He’s what we call a Metamorphmagus, he can change his appearance at will. It’s why his hair and eyes look like that.”

Teddy flushed and grinned.

“The rest of the family will be down momentarily,” Harry said.

Dudley then got to meet the rest of his cousin’s family. Their eldest son was just a year older than Abby and Eleanor. James Henry Potter was a brash young man who looked remarkably like his father, save for his brown eyes which matched his mum. In personality, he was the polar opposite of his father at his age.

Their second eldest child was a daughter, Siri Elizabeth Potter also had black hair, but it took more after her mum in that it was a full of curls and waves. She was the same age as his girls, and he had the strangest feeling they’d be inseperable.

And then the youngest of the Potter kids was a shy looking red-head girl, named Lily. She clung to her mother religiously. She couldn’t have been older than five, putting quite an age difference between her elder siblings and her.

“Harry’s always had this dream of a house full of people,” Hermione explained, shaking her head. “With Siri and James, it wasn’t a huge problem with pregnancy and what not because I was still early in my career and I had enough flexibility constantly being hailed as a war hero and the like. Lily though, we had to wait so long to have her until we were both in secure positions. We’re talking about having another one, but we’re still thinking about it.”

“What’s with his godson?” Dudley asked.

“Ah, Harry often looks after Teddy when his parents need some time to themselves. His mum’s what you could describe as a magical police officer, and his father travels for work.”

“Ah,” Dudley said, nodding. “So he stays with you a lot?”

Hermione nodded. “We love having him here, he’s part of the family, you know.”

Dinner was an affair that made Dudley boggle a bit. He’d never expected things between his cousin and himself to be _so civil_ , not with the years of bad blood and the abusive nonsense his parents had put poor Harry through, but here they were, eating dinner like nothing had ever happened.

He smiled. Maybe he could do this again.

…

When September the First had rolled around, Dudley and Clara were beside themselves like many other parents as their children boarded the Hogwarts Express. His two girls boarded the train with their cousins, waving happily at their parents as they disappeared into the din.

But more than that, Dudley had met quite a few people. He’d met Ron Weasley, one of the blokes that had apparently sprung Harry from his bedroom when they were twelve. Ron had been a bit cold and dismissive of him at first, but prodding from his wife, a happy blonde named Luna, had made him a bit less cold and a bit more understanding, accepting his apologies for his inaction and being… _how he was_ as a child.

He’d also met other people Harry had known in his school years– it had been terribly overwhelming.

Harry gripped his arm and leaned in. “It’ll get easier,” He advised. “They’ll have plenty to tell you about when they come home, as well as write about in all the letters you’ll get. I promise.”

…

“First years for ’ye, Professor Potter,” Hagrid said, smiling as the first years, eyes wide with the sight of the castle.

“Thank you, Hagrid,” Harry said. “Come on, follow me,”

As they filed into the Entrance Hall, Harry turned and looked at the crowd.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, where you are about to begin your first steps in honing your talent in magic. In just a few moments, you will pass through the doors to the Great Hall, and be sorted into your house. This house will be your home for the next seven years. You will celebrate your victories together, and commisserate your losses. Proper behaviour will earn you points, and rule-breaking will _lose_ you points.”

He took a deep breath. “The four houses are Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin– the Sorting Hat will tell you more, of course.”

Harry escorted the ickie firsties through the doors, them lining up behind him in a way that always made his heart warm. Minerva shot him a wink and he grinned back at her. Ron, Luna and Neville also gave him similar looks. Arriving at the front of the Great Hall, Harry gestured for them to stop and approached the small stool that contained the Sorting Hat.

“Before we begin the Sorting,” Minerva said, rising to her feet. “I should like to welcome everyone to another wonderous year at Hogwarts. I have been asked by Mister Filch to inform you that the usual list of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products are still forbidden and will be confiscated– as well, the Forbidden Forest remains out of bounds to _all_ students unless accompanied by a member of staff. I hope you enjoy this new term, and work as hard as you can.”

There was applause, and Harry smiled and nodded. Tapping his wand to the Sorting Hat, the hat awoke and began it’s song, teaching the new students about the four houses and what they stood for. Slytherin’s reputation was still healing after they’d effectively sided with the Dark Lord during the Battle, but most of the adults harbored little grudges, Harry in particular refusing to turn out like Severus Snape.

Unfurling a scroll, he cleared his throat and began the Sorting, going down the list deftly, with each student taking barely any time at all.

“ _Dursley, Abigail,_ ” He called, watching his cousin/niece sit down on the stool, before placing the hat on her head.

The hat needed barely any time. “GRYFFINDOR!”

“ _Dursley, Eleanor_ ”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry nodded– the two seemed to be ready to inherit the mantle left behind by the Weasley twins so many years ago.

The list continued.

“ _Malfoy, Scorpius_ ”

The hat was quiet for some time, the young Malfoy heir looking like he was arguing (and losing). Eventually, the boy huffed.

“RAVENCLAW!”

Harry blinked in surprise. Oh, he could most likely expect a visit from Draco soon.

“ _Potter, Siri,_ ” Harry said, grinning as his daughter sat down on the chair. She was also quite a long time of waiting, before the hat spoke.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Harry blinked in surprise as his daughter looked shocked, before moving off to Slytherin. He shrugged, and continued the sorting. A few minutes ticked by as children were sorted to their new houses, and eventually he fell upon another familiar surname.

“ _Weasley, Rose!_ ”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” had been the instantaneous response. Luna looked pleased as punch, Ron looked perhaps a bit horrified. He’d expected his Rosie to end up in either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor– his opinion that Hufflepuffs were duffers hadn’t improved much over the years, but he was just far more quiet about it now that he was a Professor.

Harry’s face split into a smile as the sorting came to a close. He had bright hopes for the future of the students. Bright hopes indeed.


End file.
